Life Goes On

Barb's mom passed away last weekend. As a contractor, I couldn't take family leave (or even personal time off) to help Barb with hospice care or the myriad of details involved with the funeral. You see,  I wake up by 7:30 am durng the work week to get dressed, eat breakfast, and head out the door for a 45 minute commute to work. I'm paid by the hour to just focus on my work from 9:30 am to 5:30 pm -- seldom taking more than a 15 minute break to use the bathroom, grab a snack, or eat lunch. At the end of my workday, I pack up my laptop and lunch bag for the 45 minute commute home (leaving no trace that I had been there) .

At the same time, I do not bring work home with me. I no longer need to try to unwind from the pressures of 60 hour work weeks and office politics that made me dread Monday mornings. I no longer need to deal with the uncertainty of whether I would be laid off that made me dread Thursday mornings. I realize today that I am only really responsible for the footwork, and that I need to turn over the outcome to God, who is my ultimate employer.

So, the footwork sometimes is a bit more than just putting food on the table, clothes on my back, and a roof  over my head.  I honored the  wishes of Barb's mom not to take extraordinary measures during her last days by going to the nursing home after work to hold her as she struggled with the pain in her hands from the rheumatoid arthritis that were rapidly sapping her strength and will. I rubbed her back and told her that she did not need to struggle and be afraid of death.  In short, I tried to do everything possible to allow her to die with the dignity and respect that she deserved.

There always has been a meaning, purpose, and plan for my life. I just have to remember that it's not up to me to know (or understand) all of the details.